y this time she had opened the tunic and saw a bullet wound on the
brown skin, through which the blood was oozing steadily.

She stood up and looked around for a water sign, and not far away
discovered a little clump of willows, which advertised a spring.

She hurried to it and filled her hat to the brim with the cool fluid and
rushed back to the wounded Indian girl, who had not yet recovered from
her fainting fit.

Stella bathed her head, washed her wound, and then poured some of the
water between her lips.

At that the girl opened her eyes, and, with another smile, opened her
lips as if to speak.

"Rest now, dear," said Stella, with so much pity and love in her voice
that the girl could only smile once more, and gratefully close her eyes.

It did not take Stella long to improvise bandages from some of her own
garments, which she tore into strips, and bound up the wound so that it
stopped bleeding at last.

Another drink of water so refreshed the Indian girl that she tried to
rise, but Stella gently forced her back, and told her to rest.

Stella never rode away from camp without taking food in a small bag,
which was attached to the cantle of her saddle.

She now bethought herself of it, and hurried away for it.

The Indian girl was ravenously hungry, and her faintness was as much due
to her abstinence from food as from the loss of blood.

But when she had eaten she appeared much stronger.

"What is your name?" asked Stella.

The girl looked up at her and smiled.

"I am Singing Bird, daughter of Cloud Chief," she answered.

"You can speak English well," said Stella, at which the girl looked
pleased.

"Yes, I went to the Indian school, and learned to speak and to sing
hymns."

"How do you come to be here?"

"My man shot me."

"What?" cried Stella, in a horrified tone. "Your man shot you? What do
you mean by that?"

"I am Running Bear's squaw."

"You are married to Running Bear?"

The girl nodded her head.

"And did Running Bear shoot you?"

"Yes. He shot me and left me to die."

"The horrible brute. What did he shoot you for?"

"He said he had too many squaws, and wanted a white squaw."

"Couldn't he have sent you away without trying to kill you?"

"I wouldn't tell him something."

"Oh, that was the reason, eh?"

"Yes, he married me at the school for my secret, and when I wouldn't
tell him he began to hate me."

"Tell me about it. How long have you been married to him?"

"Five m